


Up In Flames

by Lothiriel84



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, The Mentalist Reverse Big Bang 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her mind was burning, the only thing she could think of was a consuming fire that destroyed all that she’d ever known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aprilvolition](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprilvolition/gifts).



> Written for the Reverse Big Bang on LJ. A huge thank you to my artist aprilvolition and to my beta MerriWyllow, who also helped me develop the plot.
> 
> Image courtesy of aprilvolition.

 

Teresa leaned back against the soft cushions of the sofa, keeping her eyes safely on Angela's face. As much as she spent her nights lying in bed and thinking on Patrick, she wouldn't risk getting caught staring at the man right before his wife and child.  
He seemed blissfully oblivious to her current predicament anyway; his love and affection went entirely to his beautiful wife, she got his undivided attention except when it came to their daughter. Little Charlotte was her father's princess, he loved her and her mother dearly as the family man that he was.

For all that she was desperately in love with him, Teresa knew that she could never act on her feelings. Patrick Jane was a happy man, she wouldn't rob him of his happiness by putting herself between him and his family; even more so because she was a Catholic, and therefore held marriage as a sacred thing.  
There was nothing for her to do but play the part of the family friend, and Patrick was indeed the best of friends regardless of any other feelings she may have for him.

"Tell us about your new job, Teresa," Angela asked politely, and she gave her a brief account of the CBI activities – at least as far as she was allowed to divulge to the public.

She chose not to mention their current investigation on a notorious serial killer for much obvious reasons, it wasn't safe for civilians to get to know about certain details.

"If you ever need my help with one of your cases," Patrick threw in casually. "You know where to find me."

Teresa shrugged and fell into the easy banter they used to share. "Yeah, right. Just let me know when one of our victims happens to contact you."

It was at that moment that Charlotte trotted into the living room, clutching a doll to her chest.

"Hello, Teresa," the little girl chirped merrily before reaching for one of the cupcakes lying on the coffee table in front of them.

She smiled affectionately; the kid was so adorable, it would take a heart of stone not to love her.

When the tea time was over, she kissed Angela and Patrick lightly on the cheek – lingering just a moment longer with him.  
Then she waved them goodbye, walking down the front path as a much familiar bittersweet feeling settled over her chest.

xxx

"You've seen him again, haven't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The truth was that she couldn't understand why James felt the need to check on her so often. They were both grown up adults, and she was the eldest sister, not the other way round.

"That Mr. Jane of yours. I know you've gone and visited him."

"Well, if you know already, I don't know why you bother asking."

James took a step towards her and leaned his hand over her shoulder. "He's a married man, Reese. I don't want you to suffer because of him."

"Who said I'm going to suffer because of him? We're just good friends, that's all."

"That's what people always say. I know you care for him."

All of a sudden she jerked away from his touch. She was a big girl, she could handle this on her own; the last thing she needed was an overprotective brother to poke his nose into her own business.

"As you pointed out before, he's a married man. No need to worry, your sister is not going to play the scarlet woman or anything."

Teresa ignored her brother's pointed stare and brushed past him to the kitchen. What she needed right now was a good cup of coffee; that would be the perfect thing to wash away the taste of tea that was still lingering in her mouth, for tea was the beverage that Patrick favored over anything else.

She was a cop, she reminded herself firmly; and cops didn't allow their weaknesses to take over them. Her job was the thing that had always mattered most to her, so that's what she was going to focus on from now on.

The front door banged quietly, and she knew that James had left at long last. Sighing she wrapped her hands around the mug and breathed in the aroma of her favorite brand of coffee.  
She had lots of experience at bottling up her feelings, so it didn't make that much of a difference if she had to do it once more; she was pretty good at it as a matter of fact.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Patrick and his wife were sitting on the terrace at the back of the house, watching as Charlotte played on the beach. He smiled when Angela rested her head on his shoulder, then placed an affectionate kiss on her brow.

"I love you," he murmured quietly, and he meant it. She was the one thing of beauty that life had given him, along with their precious daughter that made their little family all the more complete.

"I love you too," Angela murmured back at him, but he could see that she was actually distracted.

He shifted closer to her, threading his fingers through her soft air. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

That was far from the truth, and they both knew it. He fell silent, waiting for her to surrender at last.

"I like Teresa," she said eventually, her gaze lost in the distance. "She's a good woman."

The direction of her thoughts surprised him, and he still wasn't sure why she was telling him this. "Of course she is. And a good friend too."

Angela raised her head and looked him in the eyes. "You know that she's in love with you, right?"

Such a statement took him completely aback; he had never thought of Teresa as anything else than a friend, and was pretty sure that she saw him the same way.

"I think you're wrong here. We're just good friends, that's all."

His wife shook her head, seemingly determined to make a point. "I'm not accusing either of you of anything. She's too good a friend to ever act on her feelings, but that doesn't change the fact that those feelings actually exist."

He bit his lower lip, considering the implications of what Angela had just said. Teresa Lisbon was dear to him, and he didn't want her to suffer; however, he was deeply in love with his wife and child, nothing could made his heart feel any different.

"You're the woman I love, Angie – the one and only. There will never be anybody else for me."

Much to his surprise, her eyes turned deadly serious at this point. " _Never_ is quite a long time, Paddy. What if something happens to me? I don't want you to feel you owe me some kind of devotion even beyond the grave."

The smiled died on his lips, an uncomfortable shiver running down his spine. "Don't talk like that."

"Why not? You know that stuff happens, there's nothing we can do about it."

"Is there something you're hiding from me? Are you ill, or what?"

He knew she could feel his heart hammering in his chest as she rested her hand over it. "I'm fine, Patrick. But if anything ever happens to me, I want you to marry Teresa. She loves you, and loves Charlotte. She'll take good care of both of you."

"Now you're just talking nonsense. Let's take a walk along the sea, shall we?"

Angela sighed softly, then nodded her head. Hand in hand they took the few steps that led to the beach, and their daughter ran towards them as soon as they set foot in the sand.

"Look what I've found, Daddy," she said proudly, showing him a beautifully colored seashell.

"I've never seen one like this before. What about we make a necklace out of it?"

Charlotte clapped her hands and kissed him warmly on the cheek. Then the three of them strolled along the seashore, listening to the crash of the waves and the wail of the seagulls.

_This, this is happiness_ , Patrick thought as a now familiar feeling settled over his chest. _This is where I belong._  
He'd spent so many years traveling far and wide across the whole country, but now that he'd finally found a home of his own he wasn't going to let it go anytime soon.

The only shadow to his happiness was the notion of his best friend's supposed – and unrequited – love for him; he just hoped that she was going to be as lucky as he'd been, that she would find a man who loved her and start a family of her own.  
She deserved it more than anyone else he knew after all.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Blood turned to ice in her veins when Patrick Jane called her in the middle of the night, asking for her help in a shattered voice she'd never heard from him before. He hung up without saying what had happened, but she received another call from her boss only a few moments later.  
Angela Ruskin Jane had been found dead in her house, murdered; and it looked like Red John all right.

For the first time in her life she broke every speed limit as she drove to Malibu, not bothering to check on her team members first. Patrick was slumped on the floor of the hall; apparently the local PD officers had dragged him away from the crime scene earlier, and there he remained, oblivious to everything that was happening around him.

"Jane, I'm so sorry for your loss. I'll do anything within my power to catch whoever did this, I promise."

He only gave her a small nod of his head, his eyes lost somewhere into space. Teresa had seen hundreds of victims' relatives so far; she'd always sympathized with them, but this was far more personal than she'd ever experienced before.  
Her friend was right in front of her, looking utterly broken over the death of his beloved wife. If she were given the chance to undo what had happened, she would surely go for it – no matter how high might be the price.

The thought of Patrick's daughter finally broke into her musings, and she sunk to her knees to look him in the eyes.

"Where's Charlotte? Has she seen the body?"

Much to her relief, he shook his head slightly. "We were out for a walk. When we got back I brought her straight to bed, assuming that Angela had already fallen asleep. She… said she had a bad headache, and could use some rest."

His voice broke near the end, and she pulled him in for a comforting embrace. "I know what it means to lose someone you love. Don't worry about your daughter, I'll take care of her until you're ready."

He cried against her shoulder then, and she held him until he'd spent all of his tears.

"Go check on her, please. I don't want her to wake up and face this on her own."

She nodded and headed upstairs. There were other things that needed to be done before she left the place, like examining the crime scene and the dead body that was lying under the bloody smiling face.  
However, her friend and his family had to come first; even the smallest comfort she could provide them with would still matter. Her colleagues could surely understand that, and she would make sure to get the job done either way.

For all that she'd hated the serial killer right from the start, she now felt the urge to catch him more than ever. She'd always been fiercely protective of her own, and she considered Patrick as part of her family in spite of everything.

The little girl didn't even stir as she scooped her up and carried her out of the bedroom.

xxx

As much as she struggled to find a new lead into the Red John investigation, Teresa Lisbon was beyond frustrated at the lack of any clue whatsoever when it came to the serial killer's identity.

She was currently spending her time between the CBI headquarters and the little apartment that Patrick had recently purchased in Sacramento. He claimed that it was good for his daughter to be as far from the scene of the tragedy as possible, but Teresa suspected that it was mainly because he simply couldn't face the haunting memories that were lurking there.

As the weeks passed by they grew closer and closer to each other. Patrick definitely needed a friend to comfort him, and it didn't take a psychic to guess that he was secretly thankful for her soothing presence.  
Charlotte didn't really mind her either, she was someone she'd known prior to the tragedy and she could use a familiar face around her.

Teresa always struggled to keep her feelings at bay, she didn't really want to take advantage of her friend under such circumstances. However, after just a few months, it was Patrick that unexpectedly made the first move on her; she could feel the sheer desperation radiating from him when he pinned her against a wall and crushed his lips on hers, and yet couldn't actually resist him.

To her credit, she made a half-hearted attempt to stop him, only to surrender completely to the passion she'd kept buried within her for so long. It felt so good as he pulled her into his bedroom, his fingers trembling as he divested her of her clothes.  
She was slow and gentle with him, and they fell into a deep slumber later on. They hadn't actually planned to share the bed for the rest of the night, they were just too tired to stay awake.

That was how Charlotte discovered them curled up against each other in the morning, and she fled angrily from the room banging the door behind her.

"She's not my Mom," the little girl cried when her father tried to soothe her. "She shouldn't be sleeping in your bed."

Their eyes met, and she saw guilt written all over his face. Clearly he thought that what had happened between them was a mistake, and it should never happen again.  
Teresa bit her lip, then hastily collected her belongings and made to leave. She'd never meant to hurt an innocent child, and it was clear enough that her love for Patrick was never meant to be.

Now she really had to give them some space; and she could definitely use some of her own too.


	4. Chapter 4

 

He was an idiot, that was all there was to say. Angela was dead, and now he'd ended up hurting both of the people that mattered most to him on this Earth.

Teresa had been such a comfort to him after the death of his wife, he'd learned to lean on her more than perhaps he should have been. She was loyal and understanding, generous and selfless; he'd been feeling so lonely of late, it healed his heart to have her constantly by his side.  
So it seemed that Angela had been right all along; it had been only natural for him to turn to his friend now that his wife was no more, he'd felt whole again for a moment as he'd held her in his arms.

However, he had to admit that it had all happened way too soon. Charlotte was still coping with the death of her mother, of course she wouldn't rejoice at the prospect of her father starting a new relationship in the space of just a few months. He'd hurt her, and then hurt Teresa when he'd let her think that what had happened between them was nothing but a mistake.

It was true that the time was wrong, and part of him felt guilty about replacing his beloved wife so quickly. He didn't want to fail to honor the memory of the deceased, but that didn't mean that his feelings for Teresa were any less real.

Had his wife lived, he would have probably never understood how much his friend meant to him. Memories of their night together plagued his waking hours, he tried to fight them back but failed miserably each and every time.  
He wanted her, _needed_ her. The hard cold truth was that he was in love with her, almost as much as he was still in love with Angela.

His only hope was that his daughter would be able to accept the idea at last, though he knew she needed time for that.

"What am I supposed to do, Angie?" he whispered softly to the darkness surrounding him, well aware that no one was going to answer. Now he really wished he was a real psychic, so that he could actually talk to her.

He was lost without her, had always relied on her guidance more than even he had been aware of. And he now felt unspeakably guilty for all the vulnerable people he'd deceived in the past, preying on their grief in order to earn a living.

Were he not adamant that psychics didn't actually exist, he would be tempted to contact one so that he could be put in touch with his dead wife. Teresa for one was far more sensible than that, she'd told him once that she'd always refused the temptation to do such a thing.  
But then, she was a Catholic; she probably believed that her mother was safely in heaven, and she could still pray that her father didn't end up in hell in spite of his moment of weakness.

As an atheist he was denied such comfort, and for a fleeting moment he wished he could believe in something just to be told that Angela was actually somewhere looking over him right now.

God only knew how much he needed it – well, that was if God actually existed of course.

It was Charlotte's voice that broke him from his musings, and he was unspeakably thankful that he still had her at the very least.

"Sorry, honey, what did you say?"

"My dolls and I would like to invite you in for tea. Please."

A small smile touched his lips as he run his fingers through her golden curls. "Well, we can't keep your little friends waiting, can we?"

And he followed her to the bedroom he'd specially furnished for her as soon as he'd bought their new apartment. He still couldn't tell why the seagulls wallpaper never ceased to bring a lump to his throat every time he saw it.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Teresa was brooding in the solitude of her apartment when the ring of the bell startled her out of her musings.

_Please, tell me that it's not Patrick_ , she thought as she forced herself to go for the door. _I can't face him right now._

Luckily it wasn't him, but she wasn't entirely pleased to see who it was either. She wasn't really in the mood for another of James' lectures about her love life, especially after what had just happened between her and her friend.

"I thought you wouldn't be at home," her brother stated casually, and it was quite obvious that he was actually fishing for information.

She shrugged. "Where else should I be? It's Sunday afternoon, and you always complain that I work too many hours a week."

James was already rummaging through her cupboards, looking for the box of Lapsang souchong she bought especially for him.

"Well, I hear that your Mr. Jane could definitely use a shoulder to cry on."

"He's not _my_ Mr. Jane. And I'm sure he needs some time alone with his daughter – it's not like I'm family to them after all."

Her brother frowned slightly; his attention seemed focused entirely on the task of brewing his tea to perfection, but Teresa knew better than that. James had always been the introvert of the family, one could never tell what thoughts were on his mind on a given moment in time.

And he also had the uncanny ability to read people like open books, even though he didn't use his skills to make a living like Patrick Jane had been doing prior to the death of his wife.

"I take it that you two had a fight, didn't you?"

"We did not. And this is none of your business anyway."

He put the cup back on its saucer and looked her straight in the eyes. "Of course it is. You're my sister, it's only natural that I care for you."

"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you."

"Reese, don't lie to me. I can see that you're upset. Perhaps the little girl didn't relish the prospect of having a stepmom so soon – is that it?"

"James!" she warned him in a low voice, the same she used to scold her brothers when they were kids.

"What? He's an idiot if he misses his chance with you. One would think that he's learnt his lesson after what happened to his beloved spouse."

Teresa stared at him aghast. This was the most cold-hearted thing she'd ever heard from his mouth, and it scared her somehow.

"You don't really mean what you're saying," she uttered in disbelief. "It's terrible that he's lost his wife in such a way, and you can't refer to it as some sort of twisted learning experience or anything."

Her brother only shrugged in response to her words. "Maybe Red John has just done him a favor. You're the right woman for him, not that spoilt little brat who regarded herself as a princess."

"James, stop it. I won't listen to this anymore."

He shook his head gently, a strange smile curling his lips as he stepped closer and rested his hand on her cheek. "Reese. Can't you see that I've done it for you? You've always deserved better than to spend your life pining for a married man."

Her heart was beating a military tattoo in her chest, and she felt like the whole room was spinning around her a little. This wasn't really happening – couldn't be happening.  
It had to be some kind of twisted joke, or maybe she'd fallen asleep on her couch and was now having a nightmare.

"No. James, please. Tell me that this is not true."

There was a manic glint in his eyes now, even though he was still smiling at her. Instinctively she shuddered and pulled back from his touch.

"Reese, I know you're a cop; there are things you just can't understand yet. But you will someday, believe me."

She buried her hands in her pockets, desperately trying to fight against all evidence. Her little brother couldn't be a murderer, he just couldn't be.

It was then that her fingers closed around her cellphone, and her cop instincts prompted her to press the speed dial button; even though she was still adamant that this was only a sick joke on James' part, years of working with the law enforcement had taught her it was always better to have some backup just in case.  
She just hoped that her second in command would understand either way.

"Are you seriously confessing to a murder, James? If that's the case, then I have to arrest you."

He laughed at her threat, a creepy sound that sent shivers down her spine. "It's not murder when you're only settling things right."

"How so?"

"Our mother's dead, Teresa. She died young, never had the chance to see us grow up. Why should other women be entitled to that privilege?"

A wave of nausea rushed through her, and she shut her eyes. "James, I beg you. Stop."

"I simply took care of the issue, that's all. You can't really blame me for that."

"Are you actually telling me you're Red John?"

"You say it like it's something horrible. It is not. You were the one who told me that death is just another part of life, remember?"

She was shaking with sobs now, her voice trembled pitifully when she tried to speak again. "I taught you to respect life, not to take it."

"How can't you understand that you have to destroy first in order to create a new world?"

"I understand that you're very sick. I should have noticed the signs before, made you seek for help."

"Reese, I'm totally fine now. And you will be too, as soon as you open your eyes to the truth."

Anger flared inside of her at last, and she slapped him across the face. "What about Angela Jane? You took her away from her daughter, deprived another innocent child of her mother."

He grabbed her wrist then, his grip so tight it made her wince painfully. "That was only collateral damage. I just had to clear the way for you – and this is your way of thanking me?"

"James, you're hurting me. Let me go."

"You're my sister, Reese. We're meant to look after each other, but now you're discarding me like you don't give a damn about me."

"I do care about you," she murmured in a soft, broken voice. "This doesn't change the fact that what you've done is wrong."

"I'll show you wrong," he said curtly, his fingers now pressing to her throat.

Teresa didn't have the strength to put up a struggle; her whole world had just crumbled to dust and ashes, she felt too broken to fight the inevitable now.  
Perhaps there was even a small part of her that would welcome this chance to take the quick way out of this nightmare.

At that moment a loud crack came from the hall, and she heard Kimball Cho's voice as if the answer to an unspoken prayer.

"CBI, don't move. Hands in the air, or I'll shoot."

The grip around her throat didn't relent, and she was slowly drifting towards unconsciousness.

"Get out, man," she vaguely heard her brother saying. "This is family business."

Two gunshots rattled just a few inches away from her, then everything went black.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Red John was dead. The man that had murdered his much beloved wife had met his end courtesy of a bullet shot by CBI Agent Kimball Cho, Teresa Lisbon's second in command.  
It all felt so unreal to Patrick, especially when the serial killer's identity was finally divulged to the public.

James Lisbon was Teresa's younger brother, and he'd also attempted to strangle her when she'd finally confronted him over his misdeeds. Part of him couldn't help loathing the man that had murdered Angela, but the fact that he was family to Teresa gave him mixed feelings.  
He couldn't even being to imagine how much it would hurt to discover such a thing, especially for someone who'd always put justice before anything else.

His heart broke at the thought of how his friend was feeling right now. He knew that she'd taken a sabbatical, and even her colleagues were deeply worried that she would never recover from the blow.

He couldn't afford to lose her just like he'd lost Angela. He just couldn't.

Slender fingers brushed over his arm, and he raised his eyes to meet Charlotte's sympathetic stare. "Why are you so sad?"

"It's nothing, sweetheart. I was… thinking, that's all."

She shook her head impatiently, her curls bouncing all around. "Don't lie to me, Dad."

The little girl was getting quite good at reading people for her age; but then, she was her father's daughter and he would have expected nothing less from her.

"The police has caught the man that killed your Mom. He tried to hurt Teresa, and they had to shoot him."

Charlotte was quiet for a moment. "Is he dead?"

"Yes, he is. He won't hurt other people anymore."

The girl started fiddling with the sleeve of her dress. "What about Teresa?"

Patrick caught a flash of guilt in her eyes, as if she thought that she was partly responsible for their friend to get hurt. He took her in his lap, guiding her to rest her head against his chest.

"She's really upset, but she'll be fine. Someday."

"Perahps the bad man wouldn't have hurt her if she'd stayed with us?"

"Charlotte, dear," he whispered softly. "What happened has nothing to do with you."

Her fingers clutched his vest, and he could tell that she was deep in thought. He ran a soothing hand up and down her back, hoping that she wasn't reliving her mother's death once again.

"Maybe we should go and visit her," she murmured at last, and he was touched that the child was so thoughtful to ever suggest that.

His little girl never wanted to see other people suffer, and it was clear that she still cared for Teresa in spite of what had happened between the two of them. They just had to take this slow in order to make it work, that was all.

"That's a great idea, honey."

He was well aware that Teresa was in no mind set to agree to a visit; that was why he was going to call Thomas Lisbon first thing tomorrow morning. Her colleagues had told him she was staying at her brother's, so he didn't actually need her permission to show up there.

All of a sudden Charlotte climbed down from his lap, then grabbed some paper and her colored pencils. "I can make a drawing for her, maybe it'll cheer her up."

His heart swelled with pride and affection for his precious daughter; he was so lucky to have her, he could hardly fight the urge to take her back into his arms and crush her against his chest.

He settled for dropping a kiss on top of her head instead. "You're sweet. I'm sure she'll love it."

The child smiled happily and busied herself with the pencils. Patrick walked back to the sofa, a soft sigh escaped his lips as he settled back against the cushions.  
The plain truth was that he just couldn't wait to see Teresa again.


	7. Chapter 7

 

Even though she'd already been through the tragedy of losing both her parents at a young age, she wasn't really prepared to what awaited her when she regained consciousness at last. It was infinitely worse than anything she'd experienced so far; her brother was dead, and evidence was found that he was indeed the serial killer that had eluded them for so long.

Teresa was utterly devastated at the news, and decided that the only thing for her to do was to take a sabbatical. She wasn't sure she would ever be able to come back to her job, not after such a shocking revelation that prompted her to question all the choices she'd made in her life.

The hard truth was that she'd failed. Both as a cop and as a sister.  
Looking after her brothers had been her responsibility after their parents' death, so she felt responsible for James going down such a path. Even more so because she was the reason why he'd decided to kill off his last victim, the woman that was the wife of her best friend.  
She loathed herself for that, could hardly stand to look at her own reflection in a mirror.

All her team members did their best to support her, especially Cho who felt guilty for shooting her brother – no matter if he'd done it in order to save her life. They were sweet, but that didn't change the fact she felt like she didn't have a reason to live anymore.

Eventually her brother Tommy stepped in, took her to the apartment he shared with his five year old daughter. Annabeth was genuinely happy to have her favorite aunt all to her own, but even her wasn't enough to snap Teresa out of the depression she was slowly sinking into.

She spent most of her time curled up in a ball, staring in front of her without actually seeing anything. Her mind was burning, the only thing she could think of was a consuming fire that destroyed all that she'd ever known.

_Tyger! Tyger! burning bright_  
 _In the forests of the night,_  
 _What immortal hand or eye_  
 _Could frame thy fearful symmetry?_

They had found a piece of paper in James' pocket with those lines scribbled in his own handwriting, and she constantly found herself going over them again. She should have seen that her little brother needed her help, should have done something before it was too late.

There was a knock at the door, and Tommy walked in. He looked as worried as he always was these days, and yet she simply couldn't do anything to relieve his concern.

"Reese? I've made some hot cocoa for Annie – why don't you come down and have a cup of it?"

"I don't think I could stomach it right now. Thanks for asking anyway."

He sighed and shook his head, then sat down beside her. "You haven't eaten anything in days, Teresa."

"I'm not hungry."

His hand tentatively reached for her face, his thumb running soothingly along her cheekbone.

"What happened is not your fault. I know it hurts, but you have to stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. We're still a family, and we love you."

The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Thank you, Tommy. I love all of you too."

He wrapped his arms around her, and she wished she could always feel as safe as she did at this moment in time.

xxx

The days were dragging away so slowly; two whole weeks had passed since the accident at her house, and yet it felt like ages and nothing at all at the same time.  
If it was true that time healed all wounds, then she guessed it would take a lot of time for her to recover completely – if ever.

One evening she was playing with her niece Annabeth when she heard her brother talking in the doorway, then Tommy walked in with a couple of visitors in tow.  
She panicked when she saw Patrick and Charlotte Jane standing right in front of her, all but fled the room as if her life depended on it.

Once the bedroom door was safely shut behind her, she leaned against it and dragged in a shaky breath. There was no way she could face her former friend and his child, not after the terrible revelation that she'd been indirectly responsible for the death of the person they cared about most.

Another rush of panic coursed through her body when a soft tap came at the door. She held her breath, hoping that whoever it was they would just leave her alone.

"Teresa, we have to talk."

Bitter tears threatened to choke her when she heard the familiar voice, she could hardly fight the urge to throw herself to the floor and scream hysterically.

"Go away."

"If you don't open that door, I'm going to break it down – and I don't think that your brother would be happy about that."

In the end she just surrendered, threw the door open and stood there like a convicted murderer in front of a firing squad.

"I know you're angry at me, Jane. If I were in your shoes, I would probably feel the same."

He looked at her as if he couldn't comprehend a word of what she'd just said. "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," and her own voice sounded hollow in her ears.

When Patrick took a step closer, she turned her back to him and huddled her arms to her chest in a desperate attempt to pull herself together.

"Teresa. You can't possibly think that I hold you responsible for what happened."

"But I am," she let out in a painful whisper. "Your wife was murdered because of me. It's almost as if I've killed her with my own hands."

"Stop hurting yourself. I can't bear to see you like that."

He spoke in a soft voice, like he cared; then he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her.

"My daughter wanted you to have this, even if she's now busy making friends with your niece."

Her fingers trembled as she took the sheet of paper and unfolded it slowly. It was a drawing; there were three people holding hands, and another smiling at them above the clouds.  
She burst into tears when she finally understood she was the person that Charlotte had drawn right beside her and her father, while her mother was watching over them from heaven.

"I can't… please," she murmured incoherently, but Patrick only pulled her in for a crushing hug.

"I've always cared for you, Teresa," he said as he rocked her gently against his chest. "And I know it's selfish of me, but I need you more than ever now."

Neither of them spoke for a long while, as they seemed to find new strength in one another.

"He's always been so fragile, you know," she breathed at last. "Our mother's death hurt him so deeply, he never actually recovered after that."

"May God have mercy of his soul then."

Patrick's voice trembled a little, but he didn't loosen his hold on her. And even though she knew that he didn't really believe in God, that was exactly what she needed to hear in order to start living again.

They could always figure out the rest one thing at a time.


End file.
